


All Caught Up

by ThoughtsCascade



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Choking, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Dubious Ethics, F/M, Ginger - Freeform, Hopeful Ending, Other, Post-Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, Strangulation, Telepathy, The Doctor (Doctor Who) is a Mess, The Master Has Issues (Doctor Who), ThoscheiLockdown2020, Ursula K. Le Guin references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoughtsCascade/pseuds/ThoughtsCascade
Summary: The Doctor and the Master meet as the Doctor is trying to find out some more about her newly-revealed past.
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 116
Collections: Thoschei Lockdown The First 2020





	All Caught Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [space_boye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_boye/gifts).



Fifth time in two months. This was the _fifth time_ in _two months_ that the Doctor had caught a glimpse of the Master on a planet, and quite frankly, she had been beginning to wonder if she was hallucinating. Wouldn’t have been the first time. Luckily she’d opted to travel alone for a while, because as much as she hated it, she definitely shouldn’t inflict herself on anyone right now. She was snappish, and ready to just-

Do some _very_ unDoctorlike things. The sort that would have her last self utterly cross at her, doing the thing with the face and the eyebrows. The sort of things that were foolishly giving in to hate, failing to be kind, and not even _trying_ to be nice. The opposite of everything her predecessor had asked her to do. Admittedly, he hadn’t quite always practiced what his last words had preached, but she still couldn’t help feel more guilt- guilt and a bit of hatred because he hadn’t even wanted her to _exist_ , she’d been born out of a last second choice made on a whim primarily to appease the TARDIS and that had left its marks on her, more than a speech about upholding ideals he certainly hadn’t.

Not the point. The point was she was alone, which she probably should be even if she _hated_ it, and she kept seeing the Master everywhere. Which she might have been willing to write off as a fragment of her imagination (how many times had bow tie seen River when she wasn’t actually around?), except… this time she’d grabbed his sleeve. He’d turned to face her. It definitely was him.

Without Gallifrey, there was technically nothing and no one ensuring they met in order, besides their own caution or lack thereof. And she certainly had never been good at keeping her timeline untangled from anyone else’s (again, look at the situation with River). Technically there was nothing proving this him was concurrent with her. But she _knew_. She could see it, he was still wearing that stupidly purple suit, so it had to be after O, and… well. She was fairly sure as soon as he’d escaped the other dimension, however he’d done that, he’d rushed right to Gallifrey. Impatient bastard.

Or maybe that was her.

Regardless, she was certain he was from _after_ the revelation that had made her whole _life_ fall apart- (this life out of how many? Would she even have been able to not regenerate? Twice in these fourteen lives she remembered she’d tried to hold it back, she doubted she’d have eagerly rebirthed herself into torture every time, and that _did_ seem to be what Tecteun had been doing-) because he looked utterly unsurprised.

Actually, he just sort of looked… defeated. He was staying silent, too, which was unlike him. But then, hadn’t most of his recent behaviour been? Honestly, everything she’d learnt these past few regenerations had her doubting she’d ever known him, throwing another spanner into her life story. He’d spent ages doing his best to escape death. Then he’d fled the Time War to hide at the end of the Universe, which was still fair. Still tracked as being him. Usual habits. Then he’d refused to regenerate just to spite her, which at the time had seemed out of character- survival trumped winning for him, she’d been certain- until his back-up plan had become clear. Then he’d willingly let himself be sucked into the Time War instead of her, and maybe it had been a sacrifice, but maybe it had just been rage and unthinkingness, because next he’d seen her, he’d been against her without hesitation. Then… a gap, she had no clue what had happened to him after the Cybership. Then Missy. Who had been against her, but slowly and surely trying for friendship again, and the Doctor had _believed_ her-

Cue the Cybership again, so clearly that was a lie. She’d run off the instant she could. Then this him had faked being her friend ( _again_ ). Then dumped _that_ whole revelation on her head, and had… really seemed okay with the idea of her using the Death Particle. If he was here he’d obviously had an escape plan, but… had it really been one he would have been able to use if she had pressed the button right away?

She just didn’t know… “What’s wrong with you?” Why had his expression… Oh, she’d said that out loud, hadn’t she? Too used to being alone and not questioned when she spoke out loud.

The look he was giving her gave her the distinct impression he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or exasperated. Reminded her of their childhood. His childhood. She still wasn’t sure whether it counted as hers or not, if she didn’t remember anything that had come before it. For all she’d said the Master’s reveal had only taught her there was so much more about herself, really it just made the Doctor feel… smaller. More insignificant. Who was to say this portion of her life was _anything_? Twoish millenium (or over four billion years? She no longer knew how to count _anything_ , or what counted) could be a speck. 

Oh, he was speaking. About time. That he spoke, he didn’t _seem_ to be speaking about time. She didn’t think. Best listen up. “Doctor, why are you _here_?” He sounded about as exhausted as the Doctor felt. She hadn’t been able to get a solid amount of sleep since… well, before the O reveal, really, but especially not after the Timeless Child knowledge. Those memories were all sorts of nightmare fuel. Right, still speaking. “Are you here for me, or is this coincidence? Because I keep seeing you-”

“I knew I wasn’t hallucinating!” The Doctor proclaimed triumphantly, interrupting him entirely.

The Master peered at her with some level of… _something_. Not concern, despite what her brain was telling her, because that wouldn’t make sense. And this self was the worst she’d been with emotions in a long time. But the Master was peering at her with something- maybe annoyance at being interrupted? Or just more _tiredness_ , maybe- as he haltingly asked, “Was that a concern?”

The Doctor shrugged. “Always a bit of one, innit? Especially when it’s someone who should be dead.”

“Are you here to kill me, then? Seeing as you didn’t manage before.” He sounded sullen, which really wasn’t the emotion the Doctor would have paired with that question. Like a petulant child who hadn’t gotten his way. 

The Doctor looked him over. He really did seem to be in bad shape. There were new gashes on his face (and why hadn’t he healed them? He’d never been stingy with regeneration energy before…), he really did seem exhausted, and she didn’t like just how pale he looked. A picture of defeat, which was funny, because he always won. Sure, she might stop his plans, but she wasn’t fooled as to who the real victor in their fights (seemed too trivial a word, but what else was there?) was. He always won. 

“No. I decided I wasn’t going to do that back in the Citadel. You saw.”

Still, he just… stared at her. Almost blankly. While the Doctor liked being the center of attention, this was starting to just get uncomfortable. Right before she was about to give up and speak again, ask what that _look_ was for, he spoke again. “Then why are you here?”

Well, she could answer that. Wasn’t sure if she _should_ , but she definitely _could_. The Doctor glanced around, considering. “Planet full of information, universal databank.” She gestured at the terminals. “I wanted information. Unhackable. Well, not entirely, but close enough, they can hack you before you can access it remotely. You know that. The Matrix is… not an option, and The Lux Foundation Library has… pretty sure I’m banned.” She wasn’t mentioning bad memories and River dying. Not to him. “Why are _you_ here?”

“I wanted information,” the Master echoed, voice level. The Doctor couldn't help how her face twisted in response. True, all the planets she’d seen him on had been ones where she had hoped to maybe find information about her forgotten lives (or, barring that, information about whether the Master had hunted down and killed the High Council she’d exiled, since she’d never gotten to ask and couldn’t seem to locate _them_ ), but that didn’t explain what he had been looking for. 

“What sort of information?”

“Answers.” He was almost infuriatingly calm, and that was so unlike him, especially this version of him that the Doctor had to try and get a reaction. So she grabbed his lapels and slammed him against the nearest stack of computer towers, hoping to get _something_ from him. 

She got a reaction, but not anywhere near one she’d hoped for. Even if she wasn’t entirely sure what she _was_ looking for, apart from emotion. “Doctor, you’re going to damage something. Aren’t you supposed to be the one fixing this sort of thing? Not causing it?”

“I don’t know and I don’t _care_ ,” the Doctor growled, and couldn’t help a vicious flash of pleasure when his expression did change, some raw emotion in there. True, it only looked to be confusion, but that was still better than nothing. “What were you looking for?”

“Inform-”

“Information on _what_?” The Doctor snapped, glad to see that, for just a second, there was a flash of _fear_. Oh, that was… really vindicating to see. It had been so long since anyone was _properly_ afraid of her in this body. So many saw her face and just assumed she was harmless, and sometimes that was all well and good- usually actually- but there was a part of her that had missed the thrill. 

Another thought the Doctor really shouldn’t be having. 

“What else, love? You. You, and you, and nothing but you, it’s always about _you_ , isn’t it? I think we can unequivocally deem you the most important being in this universe at this point, can’t we?”

The Doctor bared her teeth at him, bringing a hand up to his neck. “I’m _not_. Shut your mouth.”

She tightened her grip on the Master’s throat, noting a shine in his eyes. She couldn’t tell if it was due to tears, or madness, or something else entirely. 

He leaned into it, hands settling onto her waist as though this were- some type of bizarre, twisted _dance_ or something. “Do it,” he urged. “Go on, kill me. What’s one more death on your hands? Give it a few years, you won’t even remember. A regeneration, at most, and you have plenty of those. You won’t even have to worry about me coming back, now that they’re all gone. We’re- or I guess I’m- the last left. Go on, dear Doctor.” 

The worst part was, she had no clue whether he was trying to urge her on or get her to stop. It shouldn’t make her want to stop, he was right. She could finally free herself from him, now that she knew- she had definitive proof from Missy- that their friendship would never return. Return, no, it wasn’t that passive. That he’d never truly want their friendship back, despite her claims as Missy otherwise. It took two wanting, for that sort of thing. So there was nothing stopping her. Should be nothing stopping her. 

Still, she found her grip faltering. This wasn’t _right_. A few bodies ago he’d been begging for him to stay alive. A body ago he’d been willing to stay in place for nearly a century straight, theoretically the full thousand years, a willing exile, just in hopes she’d surprise him, that their friendship might be rekindled and reach its former glory. Theta Sigma and Koschei against Gallifrey, eventually to be the universe.

(Until she’d run away). 

The idea of him _actually_ , _permanently_ dying _forever_ was. No. No no no no no. Hardly even _comprehensible_ , terrifying in the same way as the Vortex, easy enough to be driven to madness if it was dwelled upon, same as the Untempered Schism. 

Even thinking about thinking about it hurt.

“N-No. I’m not killing you. Not now.” Not an option. Not to mention, she still didn’t know- “Why?” That was the confusing thing. “Why d’you seem so eager for me to kill you? I- Just, doesn’t seem much like _winning_ to me. All your other lives, you’ve been trying to survive. Even at the expense of yourself- whether it was losing your body and taking someone else’s, or your mind, using the Chameleon Arch to fob watch at the end of the universe when there was almost no chance you’d be reminded to open it. No chance, really, I just messed with those odds.”

He shouldn’t look _disappointed_ , of all things, but it was there and it was _genuine_ and the Doctor hated how that hurt. It shouldn’t. He was-

Speaking. “...told you,” he was saying. “All I am is somehow because of you. The pieces of you that were taken and woven into every Time Lord. I wouldn’t exist if not for that. Surely you can understand why that might make me upset.”

The Doctor’s face furrowed. “Enough you want to die? I’m surprised you managed to fake wanting to be my friend so well for so long last regeneration, if I’m that repulsive to you.”

The Master was silent, staring at her for a few moments, clearly baffled. “I… wasn’t faking,” he said slowly, looking at her as though _she_ was the one at-risk of being delusional. 

She honestly couldn’t even muster up any annoyance at the blatant lie. “Yes, you were.” There was no doubt in her voice, maybe just some confusion as to how he could _not_ realize this. “You went and ran off with your past self instead of coming with me. I begged you, I pleaded with you, I thought you’d changed- I-” She fell silent, hand tightening around his throat. Maybe she would. Maybe she wasn’t ‘The Man Who Never Would’ any longer. At least one part of that description no longer applied, after all. Not that she ever really had been, but maybe it was time to stop pretending. She’d _admitted_ that all she’d _ever_ wanted was for them to stand side by side. And Missy had turned away. She’d _agreed_. Another clear lie, because she’d then proceeded to _walk away_.

"Oh. In retrospect that… might not have been my _best_ decision… for multiple reasons, not just the ‘you’ aspect, love. Don’t be greedy. Probably didn't look all that great, my bad. All the same, Missy didn't betray _you_." He was near breathless by the end of the sentence as her hand continued tightening.

The Doctor stared at him. “You went off with your past self instead of joining me. I asked you to stand with me. You said it was all you’d ever wanted-” Or, well, said ‘me too’ in response to the Doctor saying it- “Then refused. And left with your past self. How is that not betraying me?”

The Master, who was still being strangled, was naturally unable to answer. He was, however, perfectly capable of putting a hand on her temple, a fact the Doctor noticed far too late.

* * *

Suddenly she was Missy, and the Master, and seeing them both at once, an odd sort of omniscient third person view of a memory that she could tell must have been in the Cybership. She saw Missy insist on a hug from the Master, felt what she was planning. Felt, too, that the Master knew what was going on. Missy had done a few too many things to tip him off, been a bit too eager working with the Doctor, referred to Bill as a ‘she’ even after conversion, countless other little tells only they would have recognized. 

The Master hadn’t wanted to believe it, even as he’d already known she was going to stab him. Asked Missy why. And Missy had responded, had said “Oh, because he's right. Because it's time to stand with him. It's where we've always been going, and it's happening now, today. It's time to stand with the Doctor.” And they’d both known it was genuine. 

So the Master shot her in return. Told her not to bother regenerating. Then he marveled over the perfection of this ending for them, departing on the lift. Then Missy died.

* * *

“That didn’t happen,” the Doctor objected, shaking her head, hardly noticing her hand had gone limp around his neck. “That’s not- you didn’t- you made that up.” 

The Master shook his head. “I didn’t. That’s what happened. Two perspectives.”

Pushing back her own emotions, the Doctor shook her head. “No. You- That-” She felt frozen. Missy had betrayed her, that was a _fact_ , that was something this regeneration had known for certain. She didn’t have anyone left, because all her recent companions were somehow lost to her, River was dead, and Missy had betrayed her. But if that wasn’t true… “You destroyed Gallifrey! You were going to try and conquer the universe!”

“I did,” the Master agreed, voice level. “And I was. But Missy didn’t betray you.”

The Doctor stared at him helplessly, mouth opening and closing even as words refused to come. This self tended to lose the ability to speak much more than most of her past selves, she’d noticed. Didn’t quite always instantly know the right thing to say. “I- Then why did you- I don’t understand.” She hated confessing that, hated the chill it sent through her. Knew he’d probably love it, decide to gloat and monologue and tell her _exactly_ why he’d decided to go back to death and destruction after getting so _close_ -

No, he hadn’t- had he? The Doctor was finding herself _believing_ him, and that was- She knew the Master was a liar. He didn’t make her decision any easier, simply shrugging at her before saying “Some things are justified. You know that as well as I. You thought you were, when you thought you had.”

Not helpful. “Right, we’re- I’m not talking about this here. We need to be at the very _least_ sitting down. Come on, TARDIS.” She began walking, still holding one of his lapels. The Master, surprisingly, didn’t object, walking as casually as he could manage considering the circumstances. It still looked awkward, and if the Doctor had the energy for it she might have laughed. As it was, she simply marched to her ship. At least she’d been keeping the controls on isomorphic since losing the TARDIS early on this regeneration. No need to worry about that. And most rooms should still be restricted to the Master from his time on her as Missy… So the lack of objection wasn’t _too_ worrying, at least. 

She pulled him into her thankfully nearby ship, shutting the door behind them and headed towards the corridor. “I _am_ capable of walking on my own, you know,” he pointed out mildly. 

“Maybe I don’t trust you to not run away,” the Doctor found herself snapping, opening the first door she found and was grateful to find it was a small, cozy kitchen. A round table with two chairs, a kettle already on the stove, a few cabinets, a sink, and a refrigerator. She telepathically thanked her ship, enjoying the warm feeling her ship sent in response.

“Doctor, if I wanted to run I could have done that even if you were trying to drag me here. What about me letting you choke me implies I’m at all opposed to letting you do whatever you want to me?”

She couldn’t read his tone, wasn’t good at that this go, and he had always been good at being just too oblique for her to understand, so she responded by shoving him towards the table instead of trying to figure out how the hell to respond to that. He took the chair with his back to the stove, she noted, instead of the one with his back to the door.

The Doctor walked over to the tea cabinet, carefully selecting a tea, a mug, and a teapot. She kept her eyes on him as she began preparing the tea, but he didn’t move. Looked rather like a depowered robot or Cyberman, head ducked to stare at the table, silent and still in a way she instinctively knew was uncharacteristic of this regeneration of his, even if they hadn’t spent all that much time together these bodies. 

It didn’t take too long and she went over to another cabinet, taking a box of biscuits, setting it on the centre of the table, and heading over to the refrigerator, taking a bottle of water for herself and putting the tea down in front of him.

“No tea for you?” he questioned. The Doctor shook her head in response, opening the bottle and taking a swig, then leaning forward and taking a biscuit. In contrast to how properly he was sat, she was lounging back in her chair, legs crossed and boots on the table, at an angle from him. “Did you do something to it?”

The Doctor shrugged, munching on the biscuit. “Why don’t you try it and find out?” she challenged.

Much to her surprise, there was no hesitation in the Master as he did just that. “Ginger? Doctor, are you trying to _lower my inhibitions_ in order to take _advantage_ of me? Because I promise you, I’m perfectly willing for you to do with me as you deem fit, you don’t need to get me _drunk_.” Despite his words, he kept drinking the tea without so much as an ounce of caution.

She wondered whether he wasn’t worried or just didn’t care.

“Say, is there anything else you did to this tea and you just made it ginger to hide that fact, or did you just feel like getting me drunk?”

The Doctor elected to not answer that. “Why did you feel the need to destroy Gallifrey? I mean, you can’t have just been upset at that secret, Gallifrey’s kept plenty. And you- like I said. Bit odd of you to suddenly find me so repulsive to kill them over a smidge of my DNA being a basis for yours, when last go you wanted to be friends again. You don’t generally change perspectives that rapidly.”

She could already see the tea having some effects on him, his expression had softened, posture loosened, eyes widened and glossy. Oh, he’d already finished the tea, that was… fast. “I- It’s not about that. They took you- you were a child. Younger than when I knew you. They took you, and _stole_ from you, and called it their own inheritance. My inheritance. Tell me, Doctor, have you heard of Omelas?” 

The Doctor kept her eyes on his, and he didn’t seem to want a response, continuing on, gesticulating grandly, “They all know it is there, all the people of Omelas. Some of them have come to see it, others are content merely to know it is there. They all know that it has to be there. Some of them understand why, and some do not, but they all understand that their happiness, the beauty of their city, the tenderness of their friendships, the health of their children, the wisdom of their scholars, the skill of their makers, even the abundance of their harvest and the kindly weathers of their skies, depend wholly on this child’s abominable misery. One of your Earth stories. You had me read it in the Vault, do you remember?”

“You said the suffering of the child would be worth it, and those who walked away were fools, unless the city hadn’t even attempted to see if they could replicate their happiness without the child,” the Doctor recalled numbly, comprehending what the Master was saying with some disbelief. 

“I changed my mind,” the Master snapped, though it was clearly not at her. “It’s unacceptable, not when the child could be you. A civilization born off the torture of you has no right to exist.”

“And the rest of the universe?” The Doctor couldn’t ask anything else. “Even Gallifrey- most people didn’t know. You know that. Was that worth the deaths of all the children who had no part in what Tecteun did, and others presumably maintained?”

“Complicit,” the Master snapped. “Anyone who’s only alive due to the torture of an innocent _child_ has no right to exist. That includes, dear Doctor, all the children, every single Time Lord, and a good chunk of the rest of the universe for never _questioning_ , when you’ve worked _tirelessly_ to save it who knows how many times when it wasn’t even your own!” 

Oh, the Doctor _hated_ how well she could follow his logic, how _easy_ it would be for her to feel that way. Even this, a drunken ramble without any specific intent to entice her… oh, it was tempting, and far more convincing than it should be to the Doctor. “I’ve worked to protect this universe. Whether or not I was born in it, it’s my home- as for the Time Lords, you once called my version of good vain, arrogant and sentimental. Maybe you were right. But I do wish you hadn’t killed the children. Not every Time Lord deserves to die for the sins of a few. If the system is corrupt, we tear it down and rebuild. Not raze it to the ground and salt the field so nothing else can ever grow.”

“The very _foundations_ of it were rotted through,” the Master objected. “Every Time Lord deserves death, at the very least.”

“You’re a Time Lord.”

“Yes.”

Ignoring the way her stomach was churning, the Doctor shook her head, not sure what she was going to say until the words were already falling from her lips. “No. I don’t want you to die. I don’t want you to go back to- Koschei-”

“Why do you _care_?” the Master asked, something in his voice breaking as he blinked rapidly, one hand going up to his hair and grabbing it in a fist. “You were my best friend, they tortured you. But you’ve made it _exceedingly_ clear, love, that I am not yours. You’ve had _countless_ others, I must be _nothing_ to you, a few more regenerations and you could probably forget about me entirely. You’ve had closer, you’ve had better, you’ve had _more_. I wasn’t your first friend, it’s been _lifetimes_ since we were on good terms- lifetimes I never would have lived if not for them torturing you in the first place!”

Oh. Her eyes were wet. And her cheeks. That hadn’t happened much, this regeneration. She’d teared up a few times, but they’d never _fallen_. “My last self- my last self, Bill asked something similar.” She didn’t wait for him to respond, reaching forward, feet hitting the floor. She untangled his fist from his hair, and he offered no resistance. Then, she placed her hand on his temple, and offered a memory in return.

* * *

“Why do you want to do this?” Bill had asked.  
  
“She's my friend. She's my oldest friend in the universe,” had been the Doctor's response.   
  
Bill was clearly unconvinced. “Well, you've got lots of friends. Better ones. What's so special about her?”

“She's different.”

“Different how?”

“I don't know,” the Doctor had lied at the time.

Bill hadn’t bought it. “Yes, you do.”

Then, the bit the Doctor really wanted him to see, a staggering bit of honesty completely unfiltered, the likes of which the Doctor hardly ever doled out, “She's the only person that I've ever met who's even remotely like me.”

* * *

“You can tell that was true. It didn’t become any less so just because my origins are different than I thought- or yours, for that matter! Koschei. I promise you, that hasn’t changed.”

She might have been worried about the Master’s tears if he wasn’t looking at her in such _awe_. The Doctor stared at him steadily. “Do you believe me?”

The Master just kept staring. Eventually, a small shrug.

“...I’ll take it. We’ll work on it.” She looked him over. Made a split second decision. “Stay the night, sleep the tea off? You look tired. And probably shouldn’t be piloting in your state.”

He nodded, and without further ado rested his arms on the table, putting his head on top of them.

“Don’t you want a bed?” The Doctor got no response. She stood up, putting the biscuits back in the cabinet and mug in the sink, before walking over to the Master and seeing he was, apparently, already asleep.

“Unbelievable,” the Doctor muttered with a sigh. “C’mon, then,” she crouched down and lifted him, one hand under his knees and the other on his back, then headed towards the door. Thankfully, the TARDIS opened it, and the door right across the hall was also open- a bedroom, too. The Doctor sent her ship every ounce of gratefulness she had, walking in and depositing the Master on the bed. 

She took his shoes off, then stared for a few seconds. “Oh, what the hell,” she murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking her own boots off. “It’s been a long- however long.”

They could figure things out in the morning, or whenever one of them woke up from a nightmare, whichever came first. For perhaps the first time this regeneration, the Doctor was optimistic she and the Master could work things out.

For now, she laid down on the bed, already drifting off as the TARDIS dimmed the lights. 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was "Dhawan!Master gets drunk and spills all his worries onto Thirteen" 
> 
> The excerpt the Master quotes, "“They all know... child’s abominable misery." is from The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas, by Ursula K. Le Guin. Because this Master is quite the literary one, I think. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading!


End file.
